


Drazillah

by tekowrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Forced Kiss, M/M, Product Testing, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tekowrites/pseuds/tekowrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron is getting married to the love of his life, until Draco comes and ruins everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drazillah

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reaaaly old fic I wrote for a friend, ages ago, but It's here on the archive because there was this sweet person at the con who asked to see/read it and I couldn't deliver at that moment. I hope they like it.

It was at these sorts of times, that Draco wishes he’d turned out like his father. It didn’t matter that his father was kept in Azkaban in a high security cell, or that even after five whole years had passed, he was still brought upon trials to confess his role in them, and add more in way of legal punishments to his sentence. Draco didn’t mind at all, he only wished he could wish it hard enough to become a reality.

Instead he was languishing away, blending in with the white linens of Weasly’s wedding reception décor; his lone company, a glass of red liquid that could only be described as being spiked by a new product courtesy of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. It didn’t quite agree with his body, but he kept gulping more down as if it were the key to that private cell. Well he was gulping, but that was only until a hand gripped his wrist and stopped the coming flow.

Parkinson glared at him with a fiery gaze befitting thousands of suns, and he told her as much, which was a bad thing to do, as she launched into a verbal beating of her own. 

“Draco, I knew you’d be a wreck coming here, but I thought that by the fifth spiked drink you’d either shape up or get a hold of yourself. I’ve never known you to be such gloomy company.” She paused for effect, but seeing the blonde give no indication of hearing her, she went one, assuming her next words would, “Hermione and I work together, we’ve become good friends, and if she’s my ticket to gaining better favor with the wizarding world at last, then I won’t have you mucking that up. Just what is wrong with you?”   
Draco smiled at the now, very empty glass, which only caused Pansy’s rage to increase.

“I’ve never known nor seen a Malfoy act this shamefully since your great uncle Murdock who tripped over a lousy house-, look never mind, The men’s room is that way, fix yourself, and don’t touch those drinks again, you hear me Draco Malfoy?” 

A short distance away, and at the mention of the name ‘Malfoy’, Ron felt as if someone had driven a knife right through his red and golden Gryffindor wrapped heart, he turned around, and true to Parkinson’s scream, Malfoy was there, trying to hide behind a dozen glasses and adding up the tab on Ron’s drinking bar. At his very own wedding no less.  
Someone had to explain, explain in a very specific, clear and concise way, why Draco Bloody Ferret face was at his wedding.

Ron, ever so rational and cool-headed, did exactly what everyone knew he would, he threw rational thought to the wind, as his entire being boiled with the urge to punch the truth out of Malfoy’s mouth again. Cracking a few knuckles he followed the skinny figure of Draco Malfoy to the men’s room.

If the whole of the wizarding world thought Draco hadn’t cared about what Parkinson was saying, then the wizarding world was smart enough to not need Harry Potter to save its burning cauldron. 

Draco, for the sake of being allowed to sit at the mini bar again, decided to behave like an adult wizard. He dragged his wand out of his black robes, and set about fixing his face , pondering if he should try a ‘fixed smile for a day’ charm on his face, then he decided not to, what if that insufferable git Potter decided to throw in some punch lines about his father? He didn’t want to seem like a smiling buffoon then. 

Nothing would help, really, It wasn’t as if he was being held here against his will, nor was it because of lack of liquor at his house, even the ministry had enough pity to leave him something he could ruin and seal himself from the world with. It was Ronald Weasley, current groom to one Hermione Granger- Weasley soon. And the last person to slap, more specifically punch some sense into Draco. He could still remember it, in the heat of battle while being faced with certain death, his wand lost, he’d tried cutting corners and told the death eater with desperation in his eyes ‘I’m on your side!’ and all that had brought him was closer to death, if not for the ‘trio’ saving him.   
He’d felt a bit silly at the coincidence and his smile was forthcoming when he’d gotten sucker punched then, coming back just in time to hear Ron mumbling something about them saving him twice. 

That was the close call, because as soon as he stood up to repay Ron’s punch and salt to injury remark, he’d seen Greyback cutting through the students like they were wilting trees, snapping the human bodies into half, breaking bone and tearing flesh apart, laughing at the way blood spread and painted the once safe Hogwarts red, It was as if reality had escaped him before and he’d just woken up from a dream. He fled, but Greyback gave chase with madness in his eyes, howling with an animal voice, a sound so much like laughter, but invoked no humor at all.

He turned a corner and briefly caught sight of Weasley’s shoes poking out of the cloak, he almost found himself thankful that Weasley was such a giant. He’d followed until Weasley turned about and saw Greyback at their backs, and shot him with curse that must have momentarily blinded the werewolf, but it allowed just the time for Draco to slip through the grounds and leave, all of Hogwarts immersed in battle behind.

It was then that he realized he could link his whole survival to Ron’s existence, It had been hard to accept he was saved by Freckles himself not twice but thrice. He’d sat alone for days trying to do just that, accept Ronald Weasley, and therein lie his greatest mistake since the vanishing cabinet.  
From trying to force his face to look at Ron’s pictures, came trying to tear his face away from Freckles’ photos. From laughing hysterically while trying to connect the freckles on Weasel’s face, came wishing for some freckles of his own.

He was doomed. Of course had his fascination stayed at higher body level, Draco wouldn’t have needed those fifteen drinks, ten of which he’d been hiding under the table, while pretending to admire the table clothe. Which he didn’t like at all, It spoke of poor taste in fabric, and must have been Granger’s choice.

Ron barged in just as Malfoy was musing about the table cover and Hermione’s poor taste in fabric, Ron would have happily agreed with Malfoy had they been on better terms, better civil levels, had some relation to each other, been a relative you despise but still had to see at Christmas and thanksgiving, but Malfoy didn’t even score that low.   
Especially not because Hermione was the love of his life, or he was scared of her, but because he’d loved that brown, red-striped sofa and hadn’t really want to buy that ugly pink and purple sofa she saw on sale that day. It brought him nightmares, where a hideous over-colored monster was calling him WonWon. He shuddered at the thought.

Malfoy turned around to look at Ron, and if his eyes weren’t so unfocused and it didn’t seem like he’d been crying his heart out to the sinks –what was it anyway, with Malfoy and bathrooms? - Ron would have thought Malfoy’s eyes seemed to seek his out and soften at the sight of him. But that wasn’t it, it was just that Malfoy was drunk out of his bloody mind and clearly Ron seemed like nothing more than a colorful blob of light to him.

Draco could have sworn that the wonderful colorful blob of light that was in front of him looked like it was none other than freckles himself. Then he rubbed his eyes, trying to focus better but it only served to make the blob blur a bit more.   
Which was strange because a few minutes ago his eyes would have been able to see through clothes –or maybe that was just girl Weasley’s completely see-through blue white dress-, but now the scene around him kept coming and going out of focus. That was when he realized that whatever was in that drink, must have finally taken effect. In an epic moment of realization, he felt his limbs weaken and his body start to shiver from the nonexistent cold. 

Draco’s drug confused brain decided that it would be safer in his current state to be closer to the blob of light, and so, in stumbling steps Draco approached the figure, only to trip and fall atop the blob, which wasn’t as squishy and soft as he was expecting, rather it wasn’t even a blob, it was too human and too solid to be a blob, it was a blob that was nothing like a blob, and Draco’s brain wished fervently that it wasn’t Potter, because so help him, drugged or not Potter would see a repeat of the train beating.

Ron, after witnessing the madness in Malfoy’s eyes, decided that whatever anger he’d thought boiling in him, had cooled to the temperature of zero, and was then replaced by a slight pang of panic when he saw Malfoy coming towards him, so he slowly backed away, wishing he’d never left his wand behind. In the split second he’d turned his head to make sure he wouldn’t bump into something, Malfoy lunged at him. Ron froze for a bit, while Malfoy seemed to be groping his chest, the surprise lasted only a couple of minutes before Ron punched him.

The punch almost sobered Draco up, but he’d had too much to drink anyway so it only accomplished one thing, blob was identified as Ronald Weasley, Malfoy could recognize that flying fist anywhere. “Weasely..?” The mouth that moved was his, but that didn’t sound anything like his voice. Then it accord to him, that the punches he’d gotten were fairly numbered, it stood to reason that, once again when they happened he was in danger. Maybe he’d really underestimated the damage those dozen of drinks would do to him. Draco began to panic. “Weasley..Weasley I-i help!! Help me! The drinks I..” He needed to tell him, it was urgent that he knew, Draco may have wanted to cease all feelings of pain, but he hadn’t mean by death. He moved all at once, his hands, elbows and knees each in every direction they were allowed to move in, he tried to get up but kept falling, the enlarged pupils of Ron’s eyes looking up at him as if he were a dangerous wild animal.

Ron came to many conclusions, one of which was that Draco Malfoy was attempting to rip his quite expensive suit and ruin his wedding, the other, that maybe Malfoy had just lost it.  
The latter sounded more like Malfoy, again given his history with bathrooms and all. Ron then, decided on a course of action, he was wandless, Malfoy was atop of him, what he needed was to trap Malfoy in the nearest bathroom stall, after obtaining his wand. He’d leave finding Malfoy in there to the first unlucky person to go in after him, though he didn’t mind if no one did find him..Ron briefly pondered the possibility of gagging Malfoy to delay discovery, but decided not to, that’d only mean staying here longer than he’d like.

Draco found that he couldn’t speak anymore, his tongue felt heavy and engroged in his mouth and he had difficulty willing his jaw to move, much less perform the duty of speaking.   
He felt pathetic, what was he doing? He’d lost his mind, attended the wedding of a man he should be staying away from, a man about to devote his life to another, to a woman no less, and he’d had the guile to show up and act the part of an ex-anything, which is more than Ron would ever think of him. The man thought of him, or if he thought of him at all, as nothing more than a speck of dirt that kept attaching itself to his person.  
He didn’t and never had the right to begin with, and now more than ever, at that specific moment of weakness, it was Ron who had to see him, Ron who’d witnessed it all.   
Draco had lost everything, whatever was left of his image that could still haunt Ron into remembering him, his indulgence in self pity and drink had shattered it all. He was a drowning, and in his mind, Ron was a lifeline and he’d better hold onto him, he had nothing to lose.

If Ron had known that those few moments he let slide by while thinking of torturing Malfoy would come back to bite him in the ass, he’d have chosen his moments carefully. He tried to trap Malfoy’s body and stop the insane movements of the sharp limbs and where they kept stabbing his body, as accurate and strong as they were thin and long. Then he decided to just roll Malfoy off his body, then grab him from the back. It sounded less painful to his ears because Malfoy would be kicking and stabbing air then, and not his already bruised body parts.

But that was the mistake that he’d remember for the rest of his life. He succeeded in rolling them so there positions were switched, then he lifted Malfoy off the ground and in a wobbly standing position. He gripped Malfoy’s nearest hand and turned it towards him, effectively trapping it between them, and slipped his other hand over Malfoy’s chest, putting force there to will the man’s back into the stall. That’s when he heard them, footsteps and the sounds of two of his friends approaching the men’s room. Not having enough time to think up an explanation, he dragged Malfoy into a stall with himself and moved his hand upwards to use as a means of silencing Malfoy. He had just sent them flying into the stall and locked the door, when he heard the voices of Dean and Seamus talking as they entered.  
It took Draco a few moments to realize the tables had turned, and in his favor, though how, he couldn’t understand. He shook his head, trying to force Ron into removing his hand, but that only made Ron press harder and firmer. So Draco did the next best thing he could, using his trapped hand between their bodies, he stuck a hand between Ron’s legs, and grabbed. 

Ron turned into a statue the moment Malfoy’s boney fingers were around him, his grip on Malfoy hard enough to break the small hand. But it didn’t seem enough to stop those fingers from moving, if anything it seemed there was no stopping them. He shook Malfoy’s body, trying force the hand to break away. It couldn’t have been happening, not to him, he was being attacked in a bathroom stall, and he couldn’t even ask for help unless he wanted to be exposed to all sorts of misunderstandings, ones he didn’t need, not when he was minutes away from leaving with his bride. He slid his hand downwards and tried to pry the fingers away, but Malfoy used that very moment to link their fingers together, and attack once more. Ron had no choice but to remove his other hand from Malfoy’s mouth to help with the attack on his person.

The minute Draco’s mouth was free, he turned around and faced Ron. He’d had to do that to stop the man from trapping him in that position, but his actions only made him realize that this was his only chance to fulfill whatever dream he wanted, whatever fantasy he’d dreamed up about this. He was regaining a semblance of control over his body, he wasn’t even sure where he’d dragged the will from, his body feeling like it was crumbling from the inside out.

He used his hands to grip Ron’s forearms while the man was busy glaring at him and covering his lower body, then he leaned in and kissed Ron, crying as he did. He didn’t know if it was a dysfunction with his body fluid control, or if his body was projecting tears out of sheer desperation for this, for him to have Ron all to himself, or it was because he’d finally stepped on his pride and bared his feelings and himself for the man to see.

He was kissing Malfoy.   
No, no, no Malfoy was kissing him and Malfoy almost looked sad, tears streaming down his grey colored eyes, holding onto Ron in an almost desperate mann- 

What was he doing! For god’s sake he was being snogged by his arch nemeses, one Ferret Face and all he could think about was that it wasn’t such a bad experience? But Malfoy was sobbing now, almost putting his all to convey a message through his kiss, Ron pushed back trying to force him to break it, his arms being held at bay by Malfoy’s, which were pretty strong even though they seemed so easy to snap moments ago, the kiss lasted until Malfoy could breathe no more and moved away to look at Ron.

Ron didn’t know what came over him, but he’d stopped his hands inches away from punching Malfoy’s face again that day, Malfoy seemed broken somehow, and once he’d seen that Ron had stopped short, he rested his head on Ron’s right shoulder.  
Then his hands started wondering again. Ron brought his leg up to try and kick Malfoy away, but Malfoy had dodged it somehow, then pushed himself against Ron’s knee, his hands otherwise occupied. Ron’s hands were in turn free to battle against Malfoy, or trying to, as the blonde seemed intent on using any free limb to molest Ron.  
Ron finally gripped Malfoy’s hands and moved them away from him, when Malfoy attacked his neck and bit him, nipping lower, with Ron moving his head left and right to shake him off. That was when Malfoy, voice rasping with the effort of trying to talk whispered in his ears “I don’t know what’s wrong with me..” he was panting now, no doubt forcing himself to speak “I’m sorry, I love you I’m so sor-” The sound of the bathroom stall door breaking apart in front of Ron, would never leave him ever again ,for just as it brought an end to Malfoy’s desperate confession of love, It had brought down his marriage. 

Hermione looked at him with tears in her eyes, her precious wand broken in two in response to her shock. She looked on with rage at his neck, and aparated in an instant.  
Malfoy meanwhile suddenly heaved everything in his stomach on Ron’s expensive tuxedo.

It was several years later, that Ron finally re-united with his ex-bride, not for lack of trying, Ron was devastated that first year. And as much as he’d loved to throw the blame on Draco, he couldn’t, not after Draco’d been admitted to St.Mungo’s for over two weeks, the healers trying to detoxify his body from traces of the drinks he’d had and whatever substance caused him to fly off the handle so bizarrely, aside from obvious acute alcohol poisoning.

Hermione hadn’t wanted to see his face, and told him as much in several howlers that kept blowing up before Ron could get to them, proclaiming her disgust and refusal to have a conversation. When the last batch of them had arrived he’d flown to St.Mungo’s with every intention of putting out Draco’s lights. There he’d seen him, blue against the white sheets, cheeks sunken in, he’d looked even worse than he had at the wedding, if that was possible. He sat there for a moment, looking on while Malfoy seemed to struggle to breathe on his own. He returned home without so much as breathing in Malfoy’s direction, his confession ringing in Ron’s ears like the church bells he’d missed out on hearing. Harry told him afterwards, that they went looking for him after his disappearance and Dean had said he’d seen him leave for the bathroom, but when they didn’t hear a sound there they’d thought it was nothing and left, but Hermione decided to check for herself, worried he’d collapsed, and that was at the exact moment Draco had been confessing.

Out of St.Mungo’s Draco didn’t even show his face, he sent a letter apologizing for mis-conduct and wishing Ron luck getting back with Hermione. Ron was rather surprised Draco didn’t decide to sue them for having him momentarily lose his mind, and ended up visiting Draco at the Manor. 

“I..look I’ve apologized, and I do think being humiliated and stuck at St.Mungo’s was quite the divine punishment. I’ve nothing else left to say, goodday.” As Draco was about to close the door, Ron stuck his foot inside to stop it.

“What you said! Was, um, back then before you passed out, is it true?” Draco was silent, and seemed troubled, but didn’t answer, Ron just slapped a hand on his forehead and said, “’Course it weren’t. hahaha, you being drugged and all, sorry this was just a mistake, I’ll be-” 

“It was,” Draco chocked out and before he could lift his eyes up and look at Ron, the red-head had pulled him towards him and hugged him close. 

“Look, I’m not going to be a replacement to Hermione, I’m a Malfoy, I have standards and I..I don’t really want to end up like my father.” 

“You wont, I’m honestly surprised you didn’t sue us for almost sending you to an early grave. And sure you’ll always be a nasty rich ferret and all. But maybe, maybe there’s something else there, something even Dumbledore saw that I’ve yet to see for myself.”

Three years later saw them at that same place again, Ron in a tuxedo, the reception hall decked in green and gold this time, and Draco acting everybit the Bridezilla he was. Ron greeted Hermione with a kiss on her head, and told her in soft tones “Stay away from the mini bar, even I have no banning authority on product testing”.


End file.
